Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1007

Chapter 1007: Chapter 1007

He took the cloth from her hands, finishing the task quietly. They worked side by side in silence, hips touching occasionally, until the sound of light footsteps behind them drew their attention. Scarlet emerged from the house, still wrapped in one of Jude’s shirts, her copper-red hair tousled wildly. She smiled, kissed Jude on the shoulder as she passed, and leaned against the basin beside Susan.

"You two look like a painting," she murmured. "Serene and ancient."

Susan snorted. "You’re just saying that because you didn’t want to do laundry."

"Guilty," Scarlet grinned.

Jude stood, shaking water from his hands. "Come on. Let’s start the day together."

By the time the rest of the household stirred, the sun had warmed the orchard and the watchers’ shapes had faded slightly into the daylight. Breakfast was modest, herb porridge, boiled eggs, fig slices, and was shared sitting on woven mats beneath the glyph trees. Natalie kept Laurel and Raven entertained with dancing flame patterns, her fingers making sparks and twisting smoke into playful shapes. Layla laughed from across the circle as the children squealed. Stella leaned against Jude’s shoulder, quiet as always in the early hours, but her hand slipped around his waist, grounding him. Rose brought him water, brushed back his hair, kissed his temple.

After they ate, Emma gathered them into a loose circle, her tone thoughtful. "I think we need to go further into the forest today. Not past the border, but close. The watchers are holding back, but they’re guiding us."

"We take offerings?" asked Zoey.

"Yes," Jude said. "And names. Let’s give names again."

Serena rose, retrieving the record box. "We’ve written dozens, but I’ve marked the ones we haven’t spoken aloud yet."

Lucy joined her, flipping through the scrolls. "Maybe we name a clearing. Claim it with voice, and gift."

They prepared all morning, flatcakes with preserved lemon, lavender-water, bracelets with seed beads, a painted stone tablet with the glyph for welcome. Sophie suggested they use blue thread for the bracelets, echoing the watchers’ mist. Grace agreed, braiding them tightly with prayer.

By noon, they were ready. Jude chose eight wives to go with him: Susan, Scarlet, Serena, Lucy, Emma, Sophie, Natalie, and Zoey. The rest would stay and watch over the children. They moved as a quiet procession, skirts brushing grass, satchels filled with peace, voices murmuring names of wind and tree.

The forest received them without menace. The farther they walked, the more the watchers stirred, never too close, but visible now in shimmer and whisper, in the ripple of shadow not cast by leaves. They reached a small glade dappled with light and halted there, still beneath the hanging vines.

Jude stepped into the center and raised his voice. "We call this place Solen’s Grace."

The name floated into the air, took root in the leaves. Scarlet laid down a bracelet on a stone. Emma placed the glyph tablet at the base of a twisted pine. Lucy scattered petals in a circle. Natalie whispered something only the trees could hear.

Then they waited.

Mist curled at the edges of the glade. One shape coalesced, not entering but hovering. It shimmered blue, thin as silk, its face unreadable. Jude extended a hand, not reaching, only open.

"We come in peace. We come to understand. We come as family."

The watcher did not approach but remained. Then a second shimmer joined it. Jude held his breath.

They did not move closer, but they bowed, or something like it, and then slipped backward into mist.

"It’s a start," whispered Sophie.

They returned home in silence, not from fear, but reverence. Back in the orchard, Grace had laid out lunch, and the children were napping in the shade of the fig-glyph. Jude shared what happened, and the others listened intently.

"We need to go again tomorrow," said Stella. "Every day until they respond more."

"We need to let them know this is real," Rose added.

That afternoon, Jude found himself walking alone through the west field. It had once been just brambles and broken trees, but now young fruit trees had begun to rise, thanks to Layla’s diligent care. She joined him not long after, a basket on her hip, hair pinned with wildflowers. They picked fruits together, fingers brushing, then stopping. Layla turned, standing on her toes to kiss him gently.

"You’re carrying so much," she murmured against his mouth.

"I always have."

She took his hand. "Let me carry some."

They returned slowly, stopping often, saying little. That night, the wives gathered close. Dinner was loud, stories from Zoey about a bird that stole Sophie’s ribbon, laughter at Laurel’s demand for a personal sword. But the tension from the watchers hung in the background like a lullaby humming in a minor key.

After the children slept, the wives took turns resting against Jude. Susan lay beside him first, running her fingers along his chest as she spoke softly about her dreams, strange shapes, blue light, songs in the dark. Scarlet followed, curling up to him and pressing kisses against his throat as she whispered her fears about the watchers turning cruel. Then Lucy, who said nothing but simply held him, heart steady against his.

Sometime after midnight, Jude found himself sitting up by the fire, eyes fixed on the dark orchard. Grace joined him, wrapped in a thin shawl, her eyes distant.

"They were closer tonight," she said.

He nodded. "I felt them."

"What do they want?"

He took her hand. "They want a story."

She looked at him.

"A beginning. A middle. And whatever ending we’ll offer."

She leaned against him. "Then let’s make sure it’s a story worth telling."

In the morning, it rained. Not a hard storm, but a soaking one, gentle, steady. The orchard turned silver. The watchers disappeared completely.

Inside, they remained together, sharing warmth, stories, planning next offerings. Emma taught Laurel a lullaby in an old tongue. Natalie carved small totems from driftwood. Stella read old records aloud, her voice calm and strong.